


The Return

by ConstantWriter85



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Break Up, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Endgame, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reunions, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Temporary Character Death, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantWriter85/pseuds/ConstantWriter85
Summary: Bucky lost his girl in the Snap, and it nearly destroyed him. Natasha helped him to move on, but what happens when the Snap is reversed?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 27
Kudos: 160





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This request is from Tumblr- Hi! Can I request a Bucky Barnes one shot set in avengers: endgame where reader had a relationship with Bucky but she died in the snap but now she’s back but Bucky is with Nat? Really angsty but with a happy ending?
> 
> A/N/N: Some of you may recognize this work, I attempted this one a couple weeks ago but, honestly, I hated it. It was not good. It got some negative feedback on the ending (rightfully deserved) so I took it down and re-worked it. Sometimes this happens, it’s the only way we get better. I broke it into a two-shot because it was getting really long, I hope you like it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst, Grief, Temporary Character Death

“Yeah…yeah. Okay, Steve. I’ll be there.”

Bucky hung up the phone and stared down at the counter for a long time. You could tell just by the set of his shoulders that something was wrong. Setting down the dish you were drying, you walked up behind him and lightly placed your hand on his shoulder.

All the tension ran out of him at your touch, and he rested his hand on yours.

“I have to go.”

Those words. You hated those words. Feared them, even. But he was a soldier, a fighter, an _Avenger_ , and those words were as inevitable as the tides.

You were not a fighter. Neither by nature, nor by profession. You were a chef, a creator of culinary masterpieces with your own cafe, right in the heart of Brooklyn.

It wasn’t large, only serving breakfast and lunch, but it was yours. Farm to table ingredients, wholesome recipes, and a cozy, friendly atmosphere—it was a popular spot, and had attracted the attention of a certain brunette super soldier two years ago.

Or, more precisely, _you_ had attracted his attention.

Bucky’s stomach may have led him to your café, but it was his heart that made him stay. Again and again, encroaching on closing hours as he shyly flirted his way into your heart. Because you’d captured his, and from the first moment he saw you he knew you were the one for him.

Boldly, he’d asked you out for coffee and then blushed deeply, realizing you were currently pouring him a cup. You laughed and smiled at him, and right then he knew he was a goner. A self-conscious tuck of the hair behind his ear and a nervous little laugh of his own, and you stared into those stormy blue eyes and fell. Hard.

Two years later, and there was a ring on your finger. A small little diamond, a promise of something more.

Bucky played with it now as he worried his lip between his teeth.

“This one…it’s not gonna be like the others. There’s a lot riding on this one. It’s not like anything we’ve faced before.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

Bucky always told you where he was going and what he was doing—he knew the anxiety of not knowing was worse. You were an open book to each other and always had been, but something in his look said he was reluctant to tell you about this one.

He turned suddenly, lifting you up and depositing you gently on the counter. Slotting himself between your knees, he smiled weakly at you as he held your face in his hands, eyes scanning your face as if he were memorizing it.

You’d sent him off on missions before, but you had never seen that look on his face. Strength and determination, even reassurance, yes—but underneath it all, you saw a real and palpable fear.

“There’s this…guy. An alien, I guess. They call him a Titan.” He spoke slowly and softly, rubbing his thumbs across your cheekbones. “He’s coming here to get some really powerful stones, and we’ve got to stop him.”

“What happens if he gets them?”

A pained expression crossed his face. “He snaps his fingers, and extinguishes half the life in the universe.”

“Oh.”

Now you understood the reason for his fear. Bucky wasn’t afraid for his own life, he was afraid for yours.

“Hey.” Bucky tilted your chin up. “It’s going to be okay. We’re gonna stop him too, just like all the others. And this time next month, we’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, off on our honeymoon where no one can bother us, spending all day naked in bed, and this will all be just a memory.”

A smile that was meant to reassure, but you could still see the worry written there.

_I could lose her._

You knew he didn’t want to scare you, but you still couldn’t help your thoughts—if all this Titan had to do was snap his fingers to kill half of everything, what could he do to the Avengers?

What could he do to Bucky?

_I could lose him._

The words ate at your heart but you smiled back, wanting to be strong for him. To reassure him.

“Naked all day in bed,” you hummed, “is that a promise?”

He grinned, and his eyes flashed. “It’s a guarantee.”

“When do you have to leave?”

“In a few hours. Steve’s already on his way.” His face fell. “I know, it’s not much time.”

Eyes closed wearily, and foreheads pressed together.

“It’s enough,” you whispered. “I’ll take it.”

Bucky captured your lips with his, and he groaned into your mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. There was just a hint of desperation in his kiss, his hands needy and grasping, wanting to feel, to touch.

Teeth clashed together. Bucky murmured your name, nipping at the soft spot beneath your jaw and working his way down your throat. Your fingers carded through his long chestnut hair, and you whimpered.

Bucky pulled away slightly, burying his face in your shoulder as his chest heaved. His arms tightened around you, and your eyes started to burn—this was just as hard for him as it was for you.

“Bucky.”

You placed your hand over his heart, feeling its frantic rhythm beneath your palm. Bucky looked at you, his eyes wild with desperation, and placed his hand over yours.

“Make me another promise,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Promise…promise you’ll come home to me.”

He stilled, and curled his fingers around yours. “I will. Promise me you’ll be here.”

“Always,” you whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

***

**Eighteen hours later**

Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

You couldn’t quite place your finger on it, but suddenly your insides felt loose. Fragmented. A wave of dizziness hit you, and the plate you were holding fell, shattering on the floor.

“M-Maurice?” you called out to your server. Was he still here? You looked at the clock—3:15. He should still be here.

You called out again, but the words turned to ash in your mouth.

_What’s happening to me?_

You tried to grab for your phone to call Bucky, to call for help— _anyone_ —but before you could even touch it, your skin hardened and cracked, crumbling into dust and drifting away into nothingness.

_Bucky, help me, I’m…I’m…_

_“He snaps his fingers, and extinguishes half the life in the universe.”_

_No!_

Now you understood.

Your legs collapsed beneath you in a plume of dust, the decay spreading up your legs and arms. Maurice burst into the kitchen behind you, shouting your name, but you couldn’t hear him.

As you felt it spread up your neck, you gasped one final breath, mouthing Bucky’s name. His face was the last thing you saw in your memory before the dust overtook you, and you fell away to oblivion.

***

**Wakanda**

“Please pickup, sweetheart. Please, please, please _god_ , please pickup.”

Dead. They were all dead.

Sam and Wanda and Okoye and T’Challa.

Blown away to dust, along with half of the world.

Just gone.

Bucky couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. Not until he heard her sweet voice again. He knew the odds. A fifty-fifty shot, but he couldn’t bring himself to think of that second, horrible possibility.

So he sat there in the Wakandan dirt, underneath the shade of a tree on an otherwise beautiful day, slowly rocking back and forth as dialed her number again and again, listening as it went to voicemail again and again—

_“Hello?”_

In his state of near panic, it didn’t even register that the speaker’s voice was male.

“Oh, thank god!” Bucky shot to his feet, stumbling slightly as a wave of relief crashed over him. “Y/N, sweetheart, I—I thought—”

_“Bucky.”_

Now it registered. Ice shot through his veins, and it felt like a vice had clamped down on his heart.

“Y/N?”

_“It’s…it’s not Y/N, Bucky, it’s Maurice. She…I’m sorry, Bucky, but she’s gone. She just crumbled away into dust, right in front of me...”_

_No, no, no, no, no, no—_

Maurice was still talking.

 _“I was in the back, I heard a plate shatter and she called out for me, she sounded like…”_ a choked sob “…. _a-and then she was just gone. It’s happening all over the city…”_

Bucky didn’t black out, not quite, but his vision darkened for a moment, spots dancing before his eyes as a high-pitched ringing drowned Maurice out. He didn’t even register Steve’s hand under his arm, helping him to sit.

_Dead. She’s dead. Dead, dead, dead—_

Something loud, sounding like a crash on the other end of the line. Shouting.

_“I’m so sorry man, but I’ve got to go. The city’s crazy right now, I’ve—I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.”_

Click.

The phone tumbled from his hands, raising a little plume of dust as it hit the ground. Bucky stared at it, his face and hands numb.

“Buck.” Steve’s voice sounded very far away.

“Sh-she’s…” he swallowed back bile. “She’s dead.”

Bucky wept.

***

Alone, in the darkness, you drifted.

***

**Brooklyn – Three Days Later**

The city was burning.

Their street looked like a warzone. Abandoned cars, trash everywhere. Scorch marks up the side of their building. Distantly, he could hear sirens, and even further off, gunshots.

The front window of the café had been shattered. Bucky picked his way carefully past the broken glass and overturned tables, less out of a need for safety and more out of reverence for something that was so completely and utterly broken. Something Y/N had worked so hard for and taken pride in, now reduced to rubble and ash.

Just like her.

Bucky found the place where Maurice said it happened. It wasn’t hard to find. The pieces of the broken plate were still there, right in front of the prep station.

He knelt down and touched the ground as if he could still feel her there if he tried hard enough.

Did it hurt, he wondered? Was she scared? Did she even know what was happening, or was it quick? He hoped it had been quick, just like falling asleep, but he knew better. She had died alone and scared, and he hadn’t been able to stop it.

He had failed her.

Tears fell onto the floor next to the plate. Bucky wasn’t sure at what point he started crying, but he made no attempt to wipe them away. It seemed like he was always crying lately. He rubbed at his chest, trying to ease the deep and visceral ache there, that raw open wound where his heart used to be.

3:15. That was the moment the world had stopped for him, and he didn’t know how to keep going. Not after this.

Bucky didn’t know how long he knelt there, but the light was noticeably dimmer outside when he finally stood and trudged upstairs to their apartment. Thankfully, the looters hadn’t made it that far, not yet, but he knew it would only be a matter of time.

He moved quicker up there, picking up items and shoving them into one of the backpacks he found in the hall closet. He moved quicker, because he was afraid if he stopped and really looked at anything, he might never get up again.

There was no air up there. No life.

Bucky left all his stuff. He didn’t want it. Instead, he took some of her things—a shirt that still smelled like her and her hairbrush, the book she’d been reading, a notepad from the kitchen where she’d scribbled a recipe. A few of the letters they’d written back and forth when they were still just sweethearts. An old stuffed rabbit that had been hers since childhood, something she had still liked to hold when she wasn’t feeling well. Their photo album.

He knew it probably wasn’t healthy, taking all of that stuff, but he had to have a piece of her to hold on to. He was afraid that without it, he’d just fade away too.

Bucky stopped in the doorway and looked back one last time at the life he used to have. He swayed, and his hand gripped the doorframe so hard the wood splintered beneath his metal fingers.

Then he turned, and he left.

***

**Five Years Later – Avenger’s Compound**

Nat found him on the roof. It was Bucky’s favorite place to go when he was hurting the most, and she wasn’t surprised to find him there now.

“James?”

Her voice was soft and cautious. Bucky stared out at the view without really seeing it, and the only indication that he was even aware of her presence was the tightening of his hands around a little stuffed rabbit he was holding. Nat knew very well who it had belonged to.

“You okay?”

“Not at all.”

His voice was like gravel, his face a blank mask. His eyes though—she’d seen that look before, and it was one she had hoped never to see again. They’d come a long way in five years, but that look broke her heart.

It was the look of complete and utter devastation.

Nat closed her eyes. She had been so afraid of how Bucky would react, once Tony confirmed that it was possible to reverse the Snap.

She was afraid she’s see guilt when she looked at him, or anger. She was afraid he’d rage or dissolve into heart wrenching tears, push her away or berate himself for something that was beyond his control.

Most of all, she was afraid she’d see regret in his eyes. Regret for the relationship they had together, the love they shared.

But instead, Bucky just looked…lost.

What had been left behind after the Snap was complete and utter chaos. Rioting, violence, social anarchy. The breakdown of any semblance of law and order as the world reeled on its feet, trying to cope with the sudden and devastating losses. For a time, the Avengers had been busier than they ever had, and for once, it was a good thing. It kept their mind of off what they’d lost.

Bucky had thrown himself into his work, a man completely devoid of emotion. Or maybe, a man who had stuffed every human emotion so far down inside himself that he wasn’t able to feel a thing. It reminded her of the way he’d been when he was the Winter Soldier.

A machine.

Then, things got better. Evened out. The world healed and the world moved on, almost better than it had been before the Snap, some reluctantly said. That still didn’t ease the pain, though.

In the absence of work, Bucky had withdrawn into himself. Isolating himself from his few remaining friends, drowning in his guilt and grief. Steve had tried as best he could to help pull him out of it, but surprisingly, it was Natasha that he opened up to.

Maybe it was because he’d trained her in the Red Room long ago, or maybe it was because they both still held darkness in their hearts. It started off slow, but once Bucky ripped that scab off, once he opened himself up to her, it was like he couldn’t stop. It all tumbled out, bleeding all over her. Nat comforted him as best she could, and in turn Bucky comforted her. She hadn’t lost as much as he had, but she’d lost enough.

She wasn’t quite sure at what point they became something more, but she knew what they were now. Friends. Partners.

Lovers.

“I don’t want to…I can’t think about it right now. I feel like I’m falling down a hole again, and it’s…it’s hard to breathe.” Bucky rubbed absently at his chest. “I don’t even know if we can even pull this off, if we can bring h-her back…I don’t want to allow myself to hope, but I _have_ to.”

He took several deep breaths, trying to regain control. “I still love her, Nat. I’m sorry, but I still love her. I’ll _always_ love her. I miss her so, so much.”

“I know,” Nat said, pretending she wasn’t dying a little inside at his words. Of course she knew Bucky still loved Y/N, she had seen firsthand how her loss had nearly destroyed him.

“…but I can’t just forget everything you’ve done for me. I can’t forget how important you are to me, Nat.” He took her hand in his. “I love you.”

He sniffed wetly, pulling her into his arms. Holding her like she was the sole thing anchoring him to the earth.

Holding her the way he used to hold Y/N.

***

**Brooklyn, NYC**

The return to existence was sudden and jarring.

One moment you were dying. Disintegrating. Then you were nothing.

Nothing at all.

You drifted, caught in the flotsam of unreality. Darkness, with nothing to ground you. It was hypnotic, almost, the complete deprivation of your senses, even your worries and fears became untethered. 

Part of you wanted to stay there forever. The other part, the more insistent, instinctual part of you thought of only one thing.

_Bucky._

Where was he? Was he alright? Was he dead too?

You understood _you_ were dead. You knew it. You had turned to ash and floated away to…wherever you currently were.

That still didn’t stop you from worrying about him, though.

Minutes, hours, decades. You weren’t sure how long you drifted, because you didn’t really pay any attention. What did it matter, anyway? You were dead, you were gone, just floating along for the rest of eternity—

Wait.

It started with a visceral tugging, somewhere near your navel. A wave of vertigo, and you flailed out with limbs that weren’t there as the darkness closed in around you. Suffocating you.

Then, your eyes opened.

You were lying on the floor, curled in a ball. Still wearing your jeans and tee shirt, the one with the little logo from the café on the left breast pocket. Your apron, too.

The floor was spotlessly clean. That was the first thing you noticed.

Then you saw a shuffling of feet, and an excited burst of…Spanish?

Yes. Faces were peering down at you now, hands reaching, and you lurched up, scrambling into the corner. Words froze in your throat, eyes wide and staring.

You didn’t know these people.

Wildly, you looked around. Yes, this was your restaurant—the bones of it, anyway. Everything else was different, though. Changed.

A wave of panic hit you, the weight of your sudden return to earth and the foreign feel of a space that was once as familiar to you as your own skin bearing down until you broke, and ran.

You burst out of the front door of what used to be your restaurant, glancing in disbelief at the sign that now read _Agave Mexican Grill_.

Your shoes skidded to a stop on the sidewalk.

Just like you, people were running. Knocking into things, staring confusedly up at buildings and at each other. Some were just standing there, some were arguing. A sense of self-preservation pulled at you, and as you ducked into the safety of the alley next to the restaurant, you glanced down at the newspaper displayed in the stand on the corner.

_April 29 th, 2023._

That. That couldn’t be right. Could it?

You felt the panic rush back in like the tide, and you staggered against the side of the building.

_Bucky, where are you? What’s happening?_

You spent the night curled up in the stairwell of the building where you used to live, knees to chest, face and hands numb. Where else could you go? The streets weren’t safe, and the shock of knocking on the door of your apartment and finding a stranger answering the door had taken the life out of you.

Patiently, and with a shocked look on their face, they told you they had never heard of you. That you didn’t live there anymore. Their eyes were wary and suspicious, but you must have looked truly awful, because at least they gave you a blanket and a bottle of water before shutting the door in your face.

It really had been five years.

You were dead, but now you were back.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. Had he been dusted too? Was he somewhere right now just as scared and alone, trying to make sense of it all?

Or had he been here this whole time? Living, mourning…moving on…

You clutched the pity blanket around your shoulders and tried to get some sleep, but the sounds of the chaos below in the streets kept you on edge.

“Y/N?”

Soft and fearful. A voice you knew, a voice that echoed through your memory. Even now, you wondered if it was real. You raised your head to see if it was.

Bucky.

He was standing there at the top of the stairs, his jaw slack and his eyes wide, looking for all the world like he’d just seen a ghost. Which, in a way, was the truth.

In two strides he was on you, falling to his knees and pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, oh god it’s you, you’re here, you’re real, you’re alive—” and the rest was lost as he buried his face in your hair and shuddered.

That broke the spell. You kissed him, fisting your hands in his uniform and whimpering against his lips as he clutched at you and kissed you back with equal passion. He tasted like copper and smelled like gunpowder, battle worn and weary but here and in your arms and you couldn’t care less.

“I love you, Y/N. I never stopped—I never—"

You cupped his face in your hands. His eyes were bloodshot and wet, dark circles standing out against his pale skin. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

“I love you too Bucky, I never thought I’d see you again, I thought…how am I here right now?”

He shook his head. “Later, sweetheart, we have to get out of here. The city’s tearing itself apart again. It’s not safe. I’ll explain everything, I promise, but first I have to get you somewhere safe.”

As if to confirm his statement, you heard gunfire in the distance, and the sound of something crashing down below.

Bucky pressed the comms piece in his ear. “Steve, I’ve got her. Rooftop, five minutes.” His eyes raked over your body. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Bucky. More than fine,” you smiled up at him. You gingerly touched the blood that had trickled down from his hairline. “I should ask you the same thing.”

He smiled back, but there was a hint of sadness there. “I’m fine, doll. Right as rain. C’mon.”

***

“You have to tell her, Buck.”

The tightening of his jaw was the only sign he’d heard Steve. Bucky had just finished tucking blankets around Y/N in the back of the Quinjet after she’d finally drifted to sleep on a wave of exhaustion.

“I know that,” he said quietly.

“Really? Because what I _see_ is you kissing her and holding her and acting like not a thing has changed. It’s only going to hurt her more once you tell her.”

“She’s in shock. She’s not in any condition to hear—”

“You’re stalling.”

Bucky just stared at him, taken aback by his friend’s bluntness. “What do you want me to tell her, Steve? After everything she’s been through? She _died_. All alone and scared, went god knows where, and now she’s back. No home, no job, the life she knew destroyed, and now I’m supposed to tell her that—”

“Tell me what?”

His heart seized. She was right behind him.

“Bucky…tell me _what_?” Quieter now, cautious.

Steve pushed past them after giving Bucky a pointed look, and they were alone in the cockpit.

Bucky sat down. Slowly, deliberately, feeling like a man standing on the edge of a precipice. One false move, and he’d take Y/N down with him, and he just couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her more than he already had.

He thought he’d have more time to figure out what he was going to say. To carefully choose the words to say, words to tell her how confused and lost and broken he had felt after she was gone, the deep, dark hole he had found himself in…

…and how someone else had pulled him out.

“Bucky, please. Talk to me.”

Bucky raised his eyes. He hadn’t even realized she was sitting next to him and now she was so close he could feel the heat from her skin and smell the sweet scent of her shampoo, and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and never let go.

But Steve was right.

“Y/N, I…” he drifted off, losing the words before he’d even begun. His hand was in hers, and he tightened his fingers. “I am so, so sorry I wasn’t there for you. That you had to go through that all alone. I promised to protect you, to keep you safe. I failed you.”

“Bucky it’s not your fault. I don’t think that.”

“But it’s true. And I’m sorry. For that, and for what else I have to say.”

She didn’t say anything, but he felt her go still.

“Y/N, I love you. I will _always_ love you. I never stopped, even after you were gone.” Bucky swallowed thickly, searching for the words. “When you met me, I was a broken man. You didn’t see that, though—you saw someone worthy of love and kindness. You lifted me up. Made me whole. You brought sunshine back into my life.”

His voice broke. “When I lost you, it was like I was breaking all over again, only this time it hurt more, because I knew what that sunshine felt like. I felt like I was falling again, falling through darkness and—”

“Who is she?”

It was said so quietly he almost didn’t catch it.

“What?”

She was staring at the floor, as if she couldn’t look at him. Afraid of what she might see. “The woman who caught you. Who is she?”

Bucky closed his eyes. “Natasha.”

There it was. The hurt. The soft exhale, shoulders slumping like a weight had just been laid on them, jaw clenching like it was something she’d been expecting. Her face crumpled, and it twisted like a knife, hot in his stomach—because _he_ was the one hurting her this time.

He reached out to her, unsure if he should touch her and unsure if she would even allow it. She stiffened when he did, but she didn’t pull away.

“This isn’t how I wanted to tell you. I know you’re reeling right now, your hurting and I didn’t want to put this on you like this, and I—”

“Do you love her?” Her eyes met his, and she repeated the question. “Do you love her?”

Bucky choked out the only answer he could, because she deserved the truth. Even if it cut like the edge of a blade.

“Yes.”

Slowly, she pulled her hand from his. For a long time, they just sat there, lost in their own heads and the horror of the situation.

Finally, she spoke. “This is…a lot to handle. You say it’s been five years, but for me…it felt like minutes. Hours. Yesterday I kissed you goodbye in our kitchen, and today…”

She blinked hard, trying to hold herself together. “Today, I find out I lost my home, my job, my identity, and most of all—most irrevocably of all—I’ve lost you.”

“You didn’t lose me, Y/N, I’m still right here. I—” The words died in his throat when she looked at him. Bucky had known, even before he spoke, that he was a fool to think things could just return to the way they were.

“But you belong to someone else now,” she said quietly. “Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know.”

Bucky looked at her. Standing there against the bulkhead in the same clothes she was wearing five years ago, like nothing had changed. A part of him hated himself, hated Nat and hated what had happened. That same part wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her senseless, and tell her that he’d never ever leave her again.

But another part, a more rational part, knew that he was a different person now. His life was different now, and he didn’t know how the pieces fit together anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst, Language, Social Disorder/Chaos/Anarchy, Violence Offscreen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N/N: Whew! This one is turning out a lot longer than I had planned, but there are sooo many feelings in this one I can’t rush it. There will be a part 3, and it will wrap things up with pure fluff.

**Two months later**

Moving slowly, you gathered up the items you’d managed to accumulate, neatly organizing them in your bag. There wasn’t much. What you did have had been given to you, one of the many charity cases that had been left in the wake of the Snap reversal. That and of course the items Bucky had pulled from your apartment five years ago. Those were safely stored in their backpack, along with all the other hurtful memories from a relationship that died five years ago.

If this wasn’t hell, it was some form of exquisite torture. For all of you. Stuck in a never-ending limbo, unsure of what to do next and waiting for someone else to make a move.

The first week had been a blur. You’d spent most of it crying or sleeping, or sometimes just staring off into space. Trying to come to terms with your new life. Again and again Bucky would knock on your door, wanting to comfort you, to hold you, to do _something_ to make you feel better. It was clear he was racked with guilt, and after you saw him comforting Natasha as well, you began to send him away.

He was upset, but he just didn’t understand how much just being near him hurt you. You knew he wanted to be there, to help, but his presence only served as a reminder that he wasn’t yours anymore. His touch _burned_ , and you could hardly stand to look at him.

You wanted to hate him. You wanted to hate Natasha.

But you didn’t hate either of them. You couldn’t. It wasn’t anyone’s fault—not his, and not hers. You knew that. Bucky had buried you five years ago, and your reappearance had thrown a cosmic monkey-wrench into his life.

That still didn’t make your longing for him lessen.

You craved his touch. You wanted him to kiss you, to make love to you, to hear him whisper in your ear, the sweet things he used to say to you. You wanted to proudly wear his ring on your finger. You wanted to be _his_ again. But you couldn’t. Five years had passed, and Bucky had a new life now.

A new life with _her_.

You knew how much this was killing him. You’d overheard Steve talking to him in the common room.

“I’m worried about you Buck.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it. You’re not sleeping, you’re barely eating. All you do is train, like hitting that punching bag is making a lick of difference. Trust me—you’re never gonna get answers outta that thing.” Steve sighed. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep stringing them both along.”

“Back off, Steve. It’s none of your business.”

“Seeing my friends hurt _is_ my business. And you are hurting them. You’ve got to choose.”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

Steve had said nothing, and Bucky finally exploded. “It’s killing me, all right! Is that what you want to hear? That it feels like I’m ripping my own heart out, day after day, seeing the looks on their faces? That it makes me physically sick to look at myself in the mirror, knowing what I’m doing to them?”

“Buck—”

“I love Y/N. I _want_ Y/N. So, so badly it’s…I’m…” He choked. “But I can’t go back. I can’t get back what we had, and I see what it’s doing to her. I see the hurt in her eyes and how much she hates me for it.”

“Buck, I don’t think she hates you,” Steve said softly.

“Maybe, maybe not, but I can’t just end things with Nat, either. I love her too. You know what I was like back then. You know what she did for me. She brought me back, she…she saved—”

You turned and left—you’d heard enough.

You ached to hear him say how much he still loved you, and your heart broke to hear that he thought you hated him. Still, though you also understood how he felt about Natasha, you absolutely did not want to hear how she had saved him when you weren’t there.

It was awkward, bordering on uncomfortable. Bucky was a stranger to you now, a vast chasm of five years separating you, and you didn’t know how to close it.

Bucky had taken his own room, a little ways down the hall from yours. You weren’t a fool— you knew that he had been living with Natasha before the Snap was reversed, but now he lived alone, bouncing back and forth between the two of you like a ping-pong ball.

It was platonic. For you and for her, and you both chafed under its weight. Nat handled your reappearance with her usual stoic grace, but you could see how uncomfortable she was in your presence. You had seen her start to apologize a dozen times before the words got caught in her throat, and she just left the room. You had seen Bucky’s eyes follow her retreat, and you left the room as well.

What you hadn’t seen was Bucky’s eyes following you as well, and how his head wearily sank into his hands afterwards.

Bucky tried to walk the line. He tried to put everything on hold, to be a friend to you both, to be what you both needed. To wait—maybe—for something or someone to tell him what to do. It helped that the Avengers were busier than ever, and he could bury his head in his work and just put off the inevitable.

Somebody was going to get hurt, and Bucky didn’t want to be the one to do it.

You watched a lot of news that first month. You became obsessed, almost, latching onto every news story that covered the civil unrest, the struggles that those who were Snapped were facing and how they were starting to get their lives back on track. Slowly, you started planning to get your own life back.

“You shouldn’t be watching this so much, it’s not healthy,” Bucky sighed as he turned the tv off.

For some reason, that really struck a nerve with you. You snatched the remote from him, and turned it back on.

“Y/N.”

“Whether you like it or not, this is my life now, Bucky. I know you want to stick your head in the sand and pretend like everything’s okay, but I can’t. It’s…” you trailed off, trying to fight back the tears.

Bucky’s face fell, and he reached out to smooth your tears away. Although it killed you to do it, you pulled away from his touch.

“Sweetheart, please. Talk to me. I hate this, you pulling away like this, and I—”

“I don’t hate you, you know,” you said quietly. “My love for you has never changed. It’s just that everything else has.”

Okay, that was maybe a little cold, but you were feeling pretty bitter just then. Bucky’s mouth opened and closed, at a loss for words.

“I don’t know where I belong anymore, and I just feel like I’m spinning my wheels, trying to get back something that’s out of my reach.”

“Y/N…what are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

“I’m thinking about moving back to the city.”

“No.” Bucky paled. “No. You can’t, Y/N. It’s not safe.”

That wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You wanted to hear him say you couldn’t go because he loved you, and he wanted to pick up where you both left off. You wanted him to say come home. You wanted him to kiss you and say he was yours and that he’d never leave you again.

But he didn’t. Bucky’s compassion, his unwillingness to hurt those that he loved was his final undoing. You stood suddenly, ignoring the broken way he called your name, even though it was killing you to walk away from the man you still loved more than life itself.

A month later and here you were, walking away from him again.

You weren’t going to make him choose. Although you selfishly wanted him for yourself, you couldn’t put that on him. You still loved him with all your heart, so instead, you were letting him go.

You slung the backpack over your shoulder and turned off the light of your borrowed room. It never felt like home anyway.

Your first stop was Nat’s apartment.

“Y/N. H-Hi.” Her voice was careful and measured.

You looked at her and smiled. Bittersweet but genuine. Nat had been a friend once, and you knew she loved Bucky. Part of you hated her for it and always would, but you couldn’t walk away angry.

“I’m leaving, Nat. I can’t do this anymore. I just…I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Y/N, don’t go. Bucky, he’ll…it’ll…we can just…”

“Just what? Figure it out? Wait some more?” You shook your head. “I have to. I can’t take this anymore, being near him. It’s hurting me, and it’s hurting him. I will _always_ love him, but I’m not going to make him choose.”

She stiffened at first as you hugged her, but then she softened as she realized how heartfelt it was.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” you answered. “Just…take care of him.” _For me._

When you knocked on Bucky’s door, there was no answer, and his phone was off. You briefly checked the range and the gym, but he was nowhere to be found.

You were torn. On one hand you knew you owed it to him to tell him goodbye to his face, and you longed to see him one last time. But at the same time, you didn’t think your heart could handle seeing the devastated look on his face as you broke his.

In the end, you settled on a letter. Carefully sealed and slipped under his door after one last ditch effort to find him.

 _This is the right thing to do_ , you thought. _This is what I need to do._

Even though each step felt heavier than the last, you held your head up and walked down the stairs and out through the lobby, out to where your cab was waiting.

***

Bucky’s phone was in his hand and he was mid-text as he knocked on the door to the apartment he used to share with Nat. He was worried. He had several missed calls from Y/N, and she hadn’t called him once since he had brought her back with him.

Something was wrong. Bucky was cursing Steve and his godforsaken rule about cell phones during Avengers meetings, when the door swung open.

“Hey Nat, Steve needs you down in the conference room, he tried to access the file on Ten Rings and you still have it locked…” His voice faded away as he looked up and saw the expression on her face. “Nat? What’s wrong?”

“Have you seen Y/N?”

The queasy feeling in his stomach suddenly solidified and dropped like a lead weight. “Uh, n-no…she tried to call me, though.”

“She’s leaving. She stopped by, maybe thirty minutes ago.”

That was all she said. Not, _if you hurry you still might catch her—_ or _— I’m so sorry baby_ , and try to throw her arms around him. Nat just took a step back as if to say, _do what you need to do, I’m here for you either way._

Bucky blanched. “She—I-I was in the meeting, my phone was off, I—fuck!”

He turned and sprinted down the hall, and Nat tried to hide the hurt look on her face as she shut the door.

By some minor miracle, he caught her just as she was getting in the cab.

“Y/N!” He called to her, out of breath and heart racing.

She froze. After a moment of indecision, she leaned in the cab and said something to the driver.

“Y/N,” he panted as he jogged up. “W-Where are you going? Nat said—”

“Nat?” Her voice was quiet, hands shoved in her pockets and staring fixedly down at her boots like they were suddenly very interesting.

“Yeah. Nat said you were leaving. I’m sorry I was in a meeting and my phone was off or else I would have picked up, can we just—can we please just talk about this?” His head was spinning, and he just couldn’t seem to catch his breath. This couldn’t be happening.

Her head shot up her jaw clenched as she stared out across the lake next to the Compound, and he realized she was struggling not to cry. He whispered her name and reached for her.

_I can’t lose her again. I can’t._

“I can’t do this anymore, Bucky. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.” _I can’t sit and wait for you to decide._ She didn’t have to say it, he already knew.

“Please don’t do this.”

“I’ve found a job—”

“A job? Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“I do. I got in contact with one of my old friends from college, she was dusted too. She’s in the city now, she helped me find a job, uh, waiting tables, and she needs a roommate.”

“The city isn’t safe.”

“It’s safe enough. I’m not useless. I may not be a superhero, but I’m a New Yorker, and I can take care of myself.”

Bucky took a hesitant step forward, his hands raised, palms up like he was talking someone off a ledge. “Y/N, please. Stay. I love you. I need you, I—”

“I know,” she said softly. Finally, she looked at him, and what he saw there broke him. “I know you love me Bucky, but you don’t need me. Not anymore—you have Nat.” She sniffed. “I love you Bucky, and I will _always_ love you. But I can’t…I can’t stay here anymore. I’m can’t make you choose.”

Bucky was speechless. He felt like what was left of the life he used to know was shattering, turning to dust just like she had.

She laughed softly, though it held no humor. “I’m sorry, I’m not very eloquent right now. I, um…wrote you a letter. I looked for you but I couldn’t find you…”

“I was—”

“In a meeting, I know. It’s okay. I—just, it’s under your door, and it, um…” she trailed off. She squeezed her eyes shut, and it took everything he had not to reach up and wipe away the lone tear that escaped.

Instead, he settled for taking her hand. A small well of hope sprang up when she allowed it, but it was dashed again when he saw she wasn’t wearing her ring anymore.

Maybe she was right. He was a different person now, and as much as he still loved her, that had been a lifetime ago. It was cruel, what he was doing—stringing them both along and waiting for something or someone to tell him what was the right thing to do, because Bucky surely didn’t know what it was.

_If you love it, let it go, right?_

If only it were that easy. It felt like he was cutting out a piece of his own heart and putting it in the cab along with her.

“So this is it?” he asked hoarsely.

“I think it’s for the best.”

“Can I kiss you? Just…one last time?”

For a second, he thought she would, but she shook her head. “I-I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Bucky stared at their hands, muscle ticking in his jaw and eyes burning. No tears yet—those would come later.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I know. I love you too.” She squeezed his hand. “Goodbye, Bucky.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He mouthed the words. There was no force behind them. Bucky watched as she climbed in the cab, but his eyes fell to the ground as the door shut. He heard it drive away, but he didn’t raise his eyes to see if she looked back or not.

He didn’t want to know.

Bucky waited until he couldn’t hear the cab anymore. He turned and looked at the double glass doors behind him, then back down the road in the direction she had gone. Hands shoved in his pockets, he hunched his shoulders against the weight of the world, and walked down the path to the lake.

***

**One Year Later - Brooklyn**

“Order up!”

The sizzle of meat on the flattop, the ding of a bell. Coffee percolating in the carafe, no matter what time of day. Orders taken and orders given, sweat rolling down the small of your back and feet aching.

It wasn’t the best of jobs, but you were very glad to have it.

As it turned out, it was one of two jobs you held. Days, you worked as a line cook in a retro diner downtown. Nights, you occasionally filled in at a catering company, just a block away from your shared apartment. It left a few hours for sleep, but it paid the bills and most importantly, it kept you busy.

Starting over was not as easy as you thought it would be. No id, no money, and nothing but your word to go on. You’d started at the very bottom, but now you were gaining momentum, climbing that ladder once again.

And oh, what a long, arduous climb it was.

You were glad of it, though. It felt like you were doing something, moving forward. And most importantly of all, it kept your mind off of Bucky.

Mostly.

You hadn’t spoken to him since that day. And it wasn’t his fault, it was yours as well. You had his number, just like he had yours. More times that you could count, you had his number dialed, but your thumb just refused to hit the call button. Also equally as infinite were the number of texts you’d typed out, only to delete them before you could hit send.

You didn’t know what stopped you. Maybe it was guilt for being the one who left. Maybe it was a hint of resentment, shrouded in hurt. Maybe it was a reluctance to insert yourself back in his life with Nat and ruin it all over again.

Whatever it was, it was enough to keep you from reaching out, and you wondered if he was having the same difficulty as you.

You’d seen him on the news with Sam—they’d formed some sort of partnership, and had been instrumental in quelling the civil unrest in the wake of the Snap.

It hurt to see him, but there was a part of you that brightened, just seeing him glowering behind Sam on the cameras. You never saw Natasha with him, but of course that didn’t mean a thing.

It didn’t.

You had a good life. You had friends, a steady job and a tiny but sunny apartment in Brooklyn that you shared with your best friend Caitlyn. She had been the one that pushed you to try dating again, and for a while, you had tried. One right after another though, the relationships fell flat—they weren’t _him_.

Your phone buzzed, and you checked the incoming text.

_Cait: Hey Y/N—you on for tonight?_

_Y/N: Remind me again?_

_Cait: The Plaza. Caterer backed out last minute, and we’re on._

Now you remembered. The Mayor was throwing some kind of benefit for victims of the Snap at The Plaza, one of the ritziest and oldest hotels in Manhattan, and Caitlyn knew the caterer. It was a huge opportunity for the both of you.

_Y/N: I’ll be there._

_Cait: Cool. Be there at 5 for prep._

Caitlyn worked at a catering company across the bridge, and you occasionally helped her out when she was short on hands. You were hoping a permanent position would open soon, so you could quit the diner.

You hadn’t given up your dream of re-opening your restaurant. It was just that real estate was very hard to come by, and you still hadn’t managed to get either your resume or your finances back to where they were. But you would get there. It just took time.

You grabbed the plate from the serving line—steakhouse fried pork chops with potatoes and green beans and a lemon-shallot sauce. You slid it to the waitress at the window with a smile and tried to tell yourself that you were excited for tonight. That you were happy with your life. That you didn’t miss Bucky. That you weren’t a fractured mess, forever missing one half of your heart and trying to smile despite the pain.

***

“Holy shit, look—the Avengers are here!”

You froze at your station, piping bag in hand over the individual cakes you were decorating. Despite the heat of the kitchen, you suddenly felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water down your back. Beside you, Caitlyn stiffened as well and peeked out of the corner of her eye at you.

Your co-worker didn’t notice. “Ooh, that’s Sam Wilson—damn, he looks fine. Wow—Bucky Barnes sure cleans up nice. Look—even Steve Rogers is here, he doesn’t do appearances much anymore…”

She was still talking—or, fangirling, rather—but you weren’t listening. Your brain had frozen the second she said Bucky’s name. Slowly, you walked over to where your co-worker was peeking out the kitchen door.

All at once, every feeling you ever held for him came flooding back. Every memory and emotion you’d tried so hard to suppress, seeing him standing there, not fifty feet away from you. Your face and hands were tingling, and it seemed like there was an invisible rope pulling taut from the center of your chest, tugging directly toward the dusky brunette with eyes the color of a summer storm.

Bucky looked good. He always did look good in a tux, even though he hated wearing one. His hair was much shorter now and he was clean-shaven, and although he looked a little leaner than when you last saw him, the way the suit hugged his frame as he moved betrayed the raw power underneath. He smiled at the person he was talking to, but it only held a fraction of the warmth it used to. His eyes kept sweeping towards the exit.

“He always hated these things,” you murmured.

“Y/N? You okay sweetie?” Caitlyn asked.

It felt like your mouth was full of cotton. “Did you know? That they’d be here?”

Sheepishly, she took the piping bag from you. It was starting to spill out onto the floor.

“I knew they were on the benefit list, but I wasn’t sure they’d be here. You know how they are, there’s always some new emergency popping up…”

Wasn’t that the truth. You sighed. “It’s okay. I’m not mad or anything. I’m glad you called me in, it’s good money and a good way to make contacts, and—”

“Are you gonna talk to him?”

Your mouth opened and closed. You didn’t know. You hadn’t exactly processed that far yet.

 _Why would he want to talk to you? He hasn’t contacted you._ You’re _the one who left._

Caitlyn took you gently by the arms and started to lead you to the back door of the kitchen. “Take a couple minutes. Get some water and get your thoughts together, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m okay, Cait.” You motioned to the mess on the floor. “I need to make more buttercream for the cakes.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you need to go get your head together and think about what you’re gonna do. I’ll make the buttercream, you already gave me your ‘secret recipe.’”

She emphasized the last bit with air quotes and a roll of the eyes as she handed you a bottle of water, and you allowed yourself to be pushed out the door. Instantly, the cool outside air hit you, leaving you weak in the knees. Bucky was less than a hundred feet from you, and you had absolutely no idea of what you were going to do.

***

“Will you stop scowling and at least pretend like you want to be here? You’re scaring away all the women,” Sam complained.

“Leave me alone. You’re lucky I came at all—this is your scene, not mine.”

“Look, Barnes, you gotta get back out there. If you’re not gonna try to get your girl back, at least find someone who’ll take the edge off. All this moping around and brooding is driving me up the wall.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to find someone else. I’m fine.”

“Look. It’s been, what—six months since you and Nat called it quits?” Sam sighed. “It doesn’t have to be serious. Just pick your head up and look around you. You never know what— _or who_ —you’re missing.”

Steve walked over, arm in arm with his date, Sharon. Instantly, he saw the look on his friend’s face. “What’s wrong, Buck?”

“He’s brooding.”

“I’m fine. Will you guys just leave me alone?” Bucky growled. He turned and walked away, hunching his shoulders against his friends’ concerned looks. 

He really did hate these benefits, even if it was for a good cause. Too many people, too many entrances and exits to keep track of, and worst of all, women throwing themselves at him with Sam and Steve’s enthusiastic encouragement.

He knew he was being a grumpy sourpuss, and he knew he probably wasn’t much fun to be around. At least while he’d had Nat he could lie to himself and say he was happy, but now that she was gone…that empty hole just seemed larger.

Bucky had never stopped loving Y/N, and in the end, that’s what drove him and Nat apart. The breakup didn’t come as a surprise to either of them—their relationship had been on its last gasp for weeks. He had tried to love Nat, to give all of himself to her. He really did. But how could he, when Y/N still possessed his heart, a fact he hadn’t realized until he was listening to that cab carry her further and further away.

It had taken him weeks to read her letter. Since then, he’d read it so many times the paper was wrinkled and torn in places, the words committed to memory.

_Dear Bucky,_

_I’m writing this letter because I don’t know what else to do. I’m not sure when you’ll get it, but I’ll probably be gone by the time you do._

_You’re probably very angry with me, and very hurt by my actions. It’s cowardly and just a bit selfish of me to walk away, I know. But I if I stay, I’m afraid there won’t be anything left of me. My heart is wasting away, pining for you and wishing I could get back what we had. I’ve never wished harder for anything in my entire life, but I can’t bring myself to tell you that. I can’t put that weight on you._

_I know my presence is hurting you. You have a life—a good life, and my reappearance ruined all of that._

_You’re a good man, Bucky. The best man I know, and I know having both Nat and I under the same roof was tearing you apart. You’re too caring and compassionate to hurt the ones that you care about, and I love you all the more for it, even if it hurts me in the end._

_I know you love Natasha, and I know she deserves your love. I know what she’s done for you, and how important she is to you now. I can’t get in the way of that. You buried me. I was gone. You moved on, and although it hurts me to say it, I’m glad you did. If I would have had the time to think about it before the Snap, it’s what I would have wanted—for you to find happiness again. To live your life, even though I couldn’t be there to share it with you. I know how much my death hurt you, and I’m glad she was there for you when I couldn’t be._

_I don’t know if this is goodbye forever, or just for a while. Who knows what the future will bring—we’re the perfect example of that. All I know is I can’t stay here any longer, and the two of you deserve a chance to be happy. We had ours. And even if it was cruelly taken from us, it ended five years ago, whether I can accept that or not._

_Loving you was the easiest and best thing I’ve ever done. It came as natural to me as breathing, and I don’t think a day will go by where I won’t think of you. I still love you, Bucky, and I will always love you. Even death can’t take that from me. _

_I already miss you. I miss your teasing and your crooked smile. I miss having your arms around me, and the way you made me feel as if I were the most precious thing in the world. I will never forget you Bucky, and if things were any different, I would follow you to the ends of the earth._

_I love you._

_Y/N._

Enclosed in the letter was her engagement ring. Bucky put it on the chain that held his dog tags, and there it had stayed ever since. Next to his heart.

And maybe that was why. Maybe that was why his relationship with Nat ultimately ended. She’d seen the shadow of Y/N written on his face day after day, had to watch him try to love another when his heart wanted someone else.

“Hey, man.”

Bucky looked up, startled from his thoughts. “Hey Sam, sorry I just left like that, I just really don’t like these parties.”

Sam shook his head. “No, I was wrong to push you like that. Steve kinda yelled at me after you left, and I wanted to apologize. It’s just…I know you’re still hurting, and I hate seeing you like this.”

“I did it to myself. I let Y/N walk out of my life, and I have no one else to blame.”

“Could you really have cut Nat loose though?” Sam shook his head. “That’s not like you. Y/N knew it, and that’s why she left. It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault except Thanos, and he’s done and dusted. Pun intended.”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at him. Sam had been dusted too, yet he remained casually nonchalant about the whole thing. He clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“You go at your own pace, man. Get your head together, think about things, just don’t wallow in it—it’s not healthy.”

Bucky smiled faintly and nodded. “Fair enough. Thanks.”

“And in the meantime…” Sam snagged a piece of cake from a passing waiter. “Have you tried this cake yet? Best I’ve ever had.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, tinman, I know you got that super soldier metabolism—I’ve never seen free food fail to put a smile on your face.”

“Fine. Happy?” he said as he snatched the cake and took a bite.

Sam might have said something, but Bucky didn’t hear it. He swallowed the mouthful and stared at the plate without seeing it, his tastebuds instantly catapulting him back five years ago, when he’d tasted it before.

Fresh vanilla bean with a hint of orange and lemon, so light it almost wasn’t there at all. He could see her hands making it, zesting the lemons and adding a pinch of orange liquor into the bowl, setting the bright red Kitchen-Aid on medium as she hummed to herself. He saw her calling him over to try it, and then laughing as he dotted a bit on her nose before licking it off, his arms around her waist as he kissed her.

It was his favorite. He saw her making his birthday cake. Their anniversary cake. He saw her making it downstairs in the restaurant. He had returned home early from a mission, and she’d excitedly thrown her arms around him and kissed him senseless. She had tasted like vanilla.

With a hint of orange and lemon.

“Barnes. You okay?”

No? Yes? He wasn’t sure yet. His heart was hammering in his chest and his palms were suddenly so sweaty he had to set the plate down.

“It’s Y/N. She’s here.” Sam stared at him as he walked off, headed towards the kitchens.

Bucky held back from the door, trying to get a glimpse inside. What if he was wrong? What if he was right? He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if she was actually here, but—

He saw her. A waiter held the door open for a trolley to pass, and he saw her. Standing at the prep station, smiling and talking with another woman.

God, she looked good. Her hair was a little different, but it was still the same radiant smile he knew and loved, the same familiar gesture as she brushed back a lock of her hair with her wrist. If his pulse was racing before it was thundering now, and seeing her standing right there in front of him brought back every memory and feeling he had for her. A deep and visceral ache that begged for relief.

He should talk to her. He should do something, this was meant to be, this was fate, this was…

_What if she doesn’t want to talk to you? What if she’s moved on, found someone else? You did, why not her?_

Doubt began to seep in, but luckily, Sam came to his rescue. He took one look through the open kitchen door, and pushed Bucky towards it.

“Go. Talk to her. You’ve got a second chance—don’t waste it.”

“Just—hold on.”

“What now?”

“There’s something I’ve got to grab—is the Quinjet still up top?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Yeah…why?”

“I’ve got to get something out of my bag. I’ll be right back!”

Because Bucky had written to her. Dozens of times, although he never had the courage to send them. And if she wouldn’t talk to him, then maybe the letters would convince her. If he couldn’t find the words to tell her tonight, then maybe they would help her understand.

Sure enough, they were right where he left them at the bottom of his go-bag.

Sam met him at the foot of the grand staircase.

“I think she saw you,” he said. “She looked surprised, then kind of upset, and then one of the other girls led her through the back.”

Bucky cursed under his breath, and went after her.

***

You tossed the water bottle in the recycling. The night air felt wonderful after the heat of the kitchen, and you watched traffic cruising by on 59th street. A few busboys were talking and smoking a little farther down the building, but you ignored them—your mind was on Bucky.

You had decided to talk to him. You _wanted_ to see him. This seemed too much like fate, him being here tonight. You missed him, and even if he was still with Natasha, that was okay. You just wanted to see him again.

Behind you, the kitchen door opened, but you paid it no mind. People were always coming and going. It wasn’t until you heard soft footsteps behind you and the soft clearing of a throat, that you turned around.

“H-Hey,” he breathed. A hopeful, nervous little smile.

“Um, hi.” You weren’t ready for this. You’d hoped you would have some time to prepare, to think about what to say. Hell—just some time to clean yourself up, because you looked like a hot mess just then. Stained chef’s coat and sweaty face, minimal makeup and completely unprepared to see Bucky again, all while he looked like he’d just stepped off a magazine shoot.

Bucky shifted nervously, and you realized you’d been staring at him.

“I-I wasn’t following you, I swear,” he stammered. “I don’t even usually go to these things, I just…I was…I just happened to look in the kitchen and I saw you there. Um…do you work here now?”

“No, no—I work in Brooklyn. I just help out my friend Cait sometimes, she works with the catering company that’s here tonight.”

“Wow, so this is like, one-in-a-million.”

“Something like that,” you said, laughing nervously.

The conversation died just as quickly as it started, both of you staring at each other.

The kitchen door swung open again. “Hey, Y/N, I need you to—oh!”

Caitlyn skidded to a halt, seeing who you were talking to. Her eyes went wide, and Bucky smiled hesitantly. Grateful for the distraction, you turned to her. “Sorry, Cait, I’ve been—”

“Nope. Nope, you’re good.” She tugged your dirty chef’s coat and apron from you and gave you a light shove.

“But I thought you said you needed me to—”

“Nope. Right now I need you to go take a walk with that delicious piece of ass over there and hash out all your shit. Seriously. You’re not allowed back inside.”

You started to say something, but she was already gone, waving her hands at you.

Bucky laughed. “God, she’s bossy. And terrifying.”

“She is,” you agreed.

“I’m glad, though,” Bucky said, taking a hesitant step towards you. “I think there’s a lot that’s unsaid between us, and…if you’re okay with it, I’d really like a chance to talk with you.”

You looked at him, impossibly blue eyes so soft and warm, but still with an undercurrent of tension and fear. You imagined your own looked about the same.

You looked out over 59th Street, out to where the lush expanse of Central Park lay.

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not sure if anyone caught it, but I decided to base this one (very) loosely on The Return by Nicholas Sparks, just the idea that sometimes things don’t work out the first time through nobody’s fault, and it takes a little time apart for them to come back together. (Very angsty) I hope you liked it, you shouldn’t have to wait too long for the final part.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst, Language, Fluff

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to go walking in Central Park at night?”

You smirked and eyed the man walking next to you. “I think I’ll be safe enough.”

Bucky smiled back, and your stomach flip-flopped. Even after all this time, a single look from him could turn you into a puddle.

You looked out over The Pond, and you could feel his eyes on you. The conversation so far had been superficial, an awkward dance of re-acquaintance after so much time apart.

“I saw you on the news,” you said lamely. “With Sam, um…you guys look like you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah…yeah. A lot of crazy stuff, you know…people just reappearing and—” he cut himself off, eyes widening as he realized what he just said. “I-I didn’t mean you, Y/N—”

You smiled. “I know you didn’t, Bucky. It’s okay. We’re here to talk about it, right?”

_God, how do I sound so calm right now?_

“Right.” He paused, and you could see a million emotions flitting across his eyes. “You look good, Y/N. You look…”

Bucky trailed off, as if he was wondering how far he was allowed to go. There was a sad turn to his mouth, a longing there that made it hard for you to hold his gaze. It took everything in you not to wrap your arms around him—you weren’t sure how far you were going to allow him to go either, not until you had some answers. 

Instead, you folded them across your chest, a defensive gesture that you knew wouldn’t go unnoticed. “You look good too, Bucky. I like the hair.”

He grinned self-consciously and brushed at it. “Thanks. Steve finally talked me into it. I haven’t had it this short since the war—it’s a lot easier to take care of.”

“I bet.”

“Um…so, how have you been? You said you’re working in Brooklyn?”

The two of you were walking again. It was quiet, probably due to the late hour. You never would have even considered walking through Central Park this late if it wasn’t for Bucky. You felt safe. Protected. And if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t truly felt that way in a long time.

You kept the conversation light, bringing him up to speed on your new life and answering his questions. Bucky told you about some of the missions he and Sam had been on, and even had you laughing over some of the antics they’d gotten up to. For a while, it was like old times, right up until you asked the inevitable question.

“So how’s Nat doing?”

You honestly just assumed they were still together, and your tone was neutral. Polite. Bucky hadn’t made a single move towards you or done anything to suggest otherwise, but his reaction threw you. He stiffened, his head ducking down as he scuffed at the pavement.

“I don’t know, haven’t talked to her in a while. We broke up. Six months ago.”

“Oh.”

You walked together in silence, the space between you now heavy with tension. Your head was buzzing— _six months? Why’d they break up? Why did he stay away? Is it because I left?_

You could feel him looking at you out of the corner of his eye as you walked, but words wouldn’t come. You couldn’t help but feel just a little bit hurt, and judging by the flush in his cheeks, Bucky knew it.

He stopped at the crest of a stone bridge that spanned the pond and leaned against the masonry. Down below, the lights of the city reflected prettily off the ripples in the water.

“Last I heard, she was back in Odessa. She’s working with Fury, and he plays his cards pretty close to the vest, so…” he trailed off, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “It was mutual. I tried, but Nat deserved so much better than what I could give her. We hung on for a while, but we both knew it wasn’t meant to be. Not when my heart already belonged to someone else.”

He looked at you then, and the tortured look on his face broke you.

“I’m sorry.” You both blurted it out together. A small nervous laugh from you both, and Bucky held his hand up when you started to speak.

“Please. Please let me go first,” he shook his head, “because you have nothing to be sorry for. I did this. Me. I was putting you both through hell. I was putting us _all_ through hell, because I just could not let either of you go, even though deep down I already knew who I would have chosen. I was just too much of a coward to admit it, and in the end it drove you away.”

Bucky tentatively took your hand in his, as warm and strong and steady as you’d remembered them. Your rock. Your hand right now was shaking like a leaf in a high wind. All the calm that you’d possessed earlier had deserted you now that you’d arrived at the meat of the issue.

“It’s always been you for me, Y/N. I lost you for so long, and once I got you back, I just—I didn’t want to hurt Nat either, not after everything she’d done for me.” He sighed bitterly. “So I avoided it completely. Somehow I had convinced myself that everything would just work itself out, and it wasn’t until I saw you leaving in that cab that I realized what I’d done.”

You finally found your voice. “I’m sorry I left like that. I know it hurt you.”

“What other choice did you have, Y/N? You were right—things couldn’t keep going like they were. You made the decision when I couldn’t, and I respect that. I understand that, even if it did hurt.” He shook his head. “I did it to myself.”

“I was an impossible situation,” you said, squeezing his hand. “There were three people in play here, not just you.”

You hated how much he was blaming himself. The way he was looking at you, like he half expected you to just disappear...it hurt you more than anything that had been done in the past, and it was enough to override any hesitancy you felt.

You closed the gap, pulling him into a tight hug. A sharp inhale, and Bucky froze for just a moment before he wrapped his arms around you and all the tension melted from his body. His heart was pounding, and you pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in as his warmth surrounded you.

God, how you’d missed him.

You lost track of how long you stood like that, arms intertwined and his cheek resting lightly against your hair. Long enough for the moon to rise over the tops of the buildings, bathing the bridge in soft light.

“I missed you so much,” he breathed. He squeezed you tighter and you felt his lips brush your hair as he released you, and you shivered in the absence of his warmth.

“Are you cold?”

Before you had a chance to answer, he shrugged out of his suit jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders and letting his hands linger there. You _were_ a little cold, and the late spring air cut right through your thin tee shirt. You snuggled into his jacket and he smiled faintly. It smelled like him.

Still, one thing bothered you. “Bucky, if you and Nat broke up six months ago…”

“I know.” He frowned and idly ran his hands down your arms before releasing you completely.

Bucky wasn’t with Nat anymore, but he hadn’t contacted you since. And as familiar as his touches had been so far, they’d been platonic at best. Unease began to worm its way into your stomach again.

“I know,” he repeated. “It’s been six months, and I haven’t sought you out. Haven’t contacted you, not even to see how you were doing.”

“I didn’t contact you either.”

“But you did.” He pulled the letter out now, the letter you’d written to him a year ago. “You told me exactly how you felt, exactly why you left. The ball was squarely in my court, and I dropped it.”

He worried the worn paper in his hands, holding onto it like it was his last lifeline.

“I’ve read this a hundred times, so much I know it by heart. Your words…they were so beautiful, so incredibly _you_ , I felt like I could hear your voice saying them. It felt like you were with me, just reading them. But you did get a few things wrong.”

Bucky gave you a watery smile. “I never stopped loving you. Not even when I was with Nat.” He frowned. “It’s fucked up, I know, and I’m not very proud of myself. I tried to give her all of me, but there was a piece of me that was always looking for you. I have _always_ needed you, and I never once resented you leaving. You were the only one who could see what was happening and the only one who took action, and I think that took an incredible amount of courage.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “After Nat…well, after her I wanted to give it some time. I have my reasons. They’re not very good, but I have them. I needed some time to get my head together. I hurt you, Y/N, very badly. First, by not protecting you like I promised I would—”

“Bucky, that wasn’t—” The look on his face silenced you. His guilt over the Snap wasn’t something Bucky was prepared to let go of anytime soon.

“…and then by not taking action when I should’ve. I want you so badly, Y/N, but I don’t want you to feel like my second choice. I can’t do that to you. The other reason I chose to stay away…” he swallowed thickly. “The other reason was that I didn’t want to insert myself back in your life in case you’d moved on and found someone else.”

You were stunned. Your mouth worked a couple times while you found the words. “I tried a couple times, but they just didn’t work out.” Bucky was staring at the water, and you gently turned his face towards yours.

“They weren’t you.”

You flattened your hand, lightly caressing up the sharp lines of his jaw and brushing back across his cheek. Bucky slowly closed his eyes and laid his hand over yours, holding it there. It was a long time before either of you spoke.

Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of neatly folded papers, tied with twine.

“I, uh…I wrote to you. Several times, but I just couldn’t muster up the courage to send them.” He looked at you, eyes wide and vulnerable. “I would really, really like a second chance with you, Y/N, but I don’t want you to decide just yet.”

He placed the letters in your hand with a little laugh. “To steal your line, I’m not very eloquent, but I wrote these for you, maybe they can explain things a little better. Read them, or not, it’s your choice.”

He closed your hand over the letters. Your head was spinning. It was a lot to unpack. There was a part of you that was still hurt and frustrated by his actions and his inability to choose between you and Natasha. Especially when they ended up apart anyways. You were the one who walked away, but he’d left you to start over completely alone after you’d lost everything—most importantly, him.

But you understood _why_. When you really thought about it, you doubted you would have done any better in his shoes. Bucky was hurting too, and you understood and respected his reasons for staying away after things had ended with Natasha.

A distant bell was tolling the hour, and it roused you from your thoughts. Time, once again, was slipping away. You felt like you’d only said about five words the whole night, only a fraction of what you wanted to say, but right then your mind was a jumbled mess.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you back.” Bucky’s lips twitched into a sad smile, and a squeezed your hands briefly before leading you back down the path. He loosened them as he walked, giving you an out, but you didn’t let go.

Bucky cleared his throat. “You remember that coffee shop around the corner from the old apartment? The one with the tabby cat?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

“Well, it’s still there. If, um…if you want, I’ll be there Friday afternoon around three—wait. Are you working that day?”

“No. I’ve got Friday and Saturday off this week.”

He nodded. “Okay. Well…if you want, I’ll be there. No pressure.”

He blushed bright red, and your heart ached at the vast chasm that was between you now. But Bucky was giving you a way to cross it, if you wanted to.

It was your choice.

You’d arrived at the front of The Plaza. Valets were pulling cars around and doormen were ushering guests in and out, and the two of you stood to the side, safe from the chaos. You held the letters to your chest, and Bucky settled his hands on your shoulders lightly.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “Coffee shop, Friday at three.”

“At three,” he repeated, smiling faintly.

He squeezed your shoulders, seemingly reluctant to leave you. In the spur of the moment, you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Bucky. Thank you.”

Bucky blinked rapidly, but he recovered quickly despite the blush that rose to his cheeks. “Goodnight, Y/N. I’m really glad I ran into you tonight.”

“Me too.”

***

Later that night, after a thorough grilling from Caitlyn, you curled up on the couch with Bucky’s letters in your lap. For the longest time you just stared at them—the close, old-fashioned script and the bit of twine. They were written on Avengers stationary and copier paper, the backs of mission briefs (thoroughly redacted) and interdepartmental memos. Some looked like they’d been ripped from the pages of his own notebooks, and some letters even bore the logos of foreign hotels. A hodgepodge diary so indicative of the man who’d written them.

Slowly, you started to page through them, reading.

_Dear Y/N,_

_I finally read your letter today. It’s taken me nearly two weeks to even have the courage to open it. I feel awful for saying this, because although I really do love Natasha, I miss you terribly. Reading your words, and remembering how I felt the day you left, I can’t help but think I’ve made a horrible mistake…._

_…I hope your doing well. I think about you often, and more times than I care to admit, I’ve pulled my phone out and have been on the verge of calling you. But I don’t know if you want that, and ~~I don’t know that I should~~. I know that I shouldn’t. I really do love Natasha. She’s so patient with me and understanding, and I don’t deserve her. To be honest, I never deserved either of you…_

_…Sam is such a pain in my ass. He is probably the most infuriating man I’ve ever met, and that includes Steve. God! It’s like he’s got a blueprint to all my irritations, and pushing my buttons all day long just delights him to no end. Why, just the other day…_

_…It’s crazy. What’s happening, in this city…I don’t even have words. I hope, I pray, that you’re safe from all this. I know you say you can take care of yourself but I worry constantly…_

_…I think about you a lot. I love you so much, Y/N, so much it hurts. It’s this ache in my heart that I can’t soothe, no matter what I try. It hurts. Why’d you leave me? Why’d you walk away? Wasn’t I enough? Sometimes I get so angry at you for leaving, but in the end, it just boils down to pain. Because I know that it’s not your fault. It’s mine, and maybe that’s why I’m so angry. I gave you no choice. I drove you away. For me it was five years, but for you…for you it was the blink of an eye. And I guess sometimes I envy you, those lost years. Not having to live through the death of the person you love. Not having to choose…_

_…You would not BELIEVE the shit I’ve seen today. So, we were flying though this canyon in the…well, I’m not sure if I can say, but anyway—there we were, and all of a sudden they started lighting our asses up! Sam’s strutting around (like he does) and I ask, “So, what’s the plan?” and he just stares at me with this little smile. And then, wouldn’t you believe it, but that motherfucker jumps out of the goddamn plane, just like Steve! I can’t get a break! First I have to deal with keeping one idiot safe, and now I’ve got two…_

_…It’s been a little while since I’ve written to you, we’ve been on a month-long mission in Germany. It’s Steve, Nat, and me, Sam is still staying with his sister after the birth of her daughter. I’m happy for him. This country had changed so much in seventy-five years, I wish you could see it. Maybe someday…_

_…Natasha and I broke up. It’s been a long time coming, and it wasn’t really a surprise to either of us. She said that she can’t take being the other woman any more, and I know exactly what she meant by that. I feel terrible. I tried so hard to walk the line, to do right by you both, but I just fucked it up so royally…_

_…Nat’s working for Fury now. It’s maybe a little awkward, but we’re still friends, as much as we can be. After all, we have quite a history together—we were just never meant to be. I think this was our one attempt to do it right, to really try, and it just wasn’t it. There is only one woman for me, and it’s…_

_…so I didn’t know what else to do. I took the little guy home and he curled right up on my bed, and that was that. I’ve named him Alpine (it was Sam’s idea) and Steve helped me get all the things a little kitten would need. He’s a funny little guy, you’d love him. It’s so nice to come home to something, that unconditional love that you can’t disappoint…_

_…I still think about you every day, Y/N. Every single day. I want to talk to you, to see you, even if it doesn’t amount to anything. I just want to know that you’re doing okay. I hate that I just left you like that, to start over. Completely. I know a little about what that feels like, and it makes it even worse. But I’m scared. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again, and I guess that’s what stops me…_

_…It’s our anniversary today. Or, at least it would be if I hadn’t gone and fucked everything up. I’m sitting here at my desk, Alpine’s curled up next to me. If you see a bunch of paw prints that’s him, he keeps sprawling on the paper and trying to play with the pen before the ink’s dry. I wonder what you’re doing. Are you alone, or did you find someone else? A person like you, someone with sunshine in their heart—you’re bound to attract someone. Someone that would treat you better than I have. Someone who’d keep their promises…_

_I love you, Y/N. I love you and I’m sorry I wasn’t a better man._

In the darkness of your apartment, you set the letters down and stared out the window for a long, long time.

***

Bucky sat in a corner booth, one where he could see both entrances to the coffee shop. His heart was already pounding and he was well on his way to sweating through his shirt, but he ordered a coffee anyway, if only to give himself something to do while he waited.

_Waiting. Waiting for what? You’re an idiot. Why would she want anything to do with you now? You drove her away, the only reason she even agreed to talk to you that night was because you ambushed her in the first place. You’re pathetic—_

“Is this seat taken?”

Bucky visibly started. Y/N was standing right in front of him, and he hadn’t even noticed her come in.

Boy, he was getting rusty.

He quickly stood, bumping the table and sloshing his coffee in his haste. “Y/N—you came.”

A slight curl to her lips. “You seem surprised. I’m sorry, I know I’m a little late.”

“N-No, it’s okay. You’re here now…I’m, um…I’m glad you came.”

Bucky waited while she ordered, and for a little bit they just sat there, sipping their coffee, although neither of them wanted or needed it. Just something to stave off the inevitable.

“I read your letters.”

Bucky raised his head.

“They were beautiful,” she said. “Kind of like a diary of the time we’ve been apart. All your thoughts…I wish I’d done the same for you.”

Bucky stared down at the table. “I just didn’t know how to tell you how I felt—everything’s so messy, now…”

“I got it, though. I understand.” Y/N laid her hand on his, and he curled his fingers around hers.

She smiled crookedly. “How’s Alpine? Do you still have him?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Of course. Somedays I’m not sure who owns whom—that little fella’s king of the castle.”

“I’d like to meet him, he sounds like a handful.”

His smile faded. “Yeah? You’d want to see him?” He blushed. “Maybe we could hang out a little?”

“I’d like that.”

“Me, too.”

Y/N sighed, and stared at her coffee as if she would somehow find some answers there. “Bucky, there’s nothing simple about us. Our past, our present…there’s no straightforward answer. We’ve been through so much. We’ve both hurt each other and tried to give each other space…yet here we are.”

“Here we are.” Bucky twisted the coffee cup between his hands, his metal fingers clinking against the ceramic. “And where do we go from here? Is there even a ‘we’ anymore?”

“I’d like there to be.”

Bucky exhaled sharply. He stared, heart in his throat as she reached up and brushed her fingers through his short hair.

Her lips twitched. “That’s gonna take some getting used to. I like it, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky closed his eyes against her touch, drawing a shuddering breath.

“Neither of us are perfect, and we’ve both made mistakes,” she said, “but I would really, really like to give us another chance. We’ll never get back exactly what we had, but maybe this can be something different. Better, even.”

His lips twitched into a smile. “You think so?”

She nodded. “I never stopped loving you. Not even when we were at our worst. It’s always been you, Bucky. Always.”

Bucky breathed heavily through the wave of emotions that threatened to overtake him. His hand curled around hers, and he drew it towards him.

“I am so sorry I hurt you, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry too. I hurt you, too, Bucky, by leaving.” She shook her head. “But it’s over now. I want to move on, and I want that second chance with you. I love you, Bucky. I always have, and I always will.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Bucky wasn’t sure which one of them moved first. One second they were leaning closer as they spoke, and the next second his lips were pressed against hers. The most bittersweet of homecomings, making his heart pound and his breath hitch in his chest.

He cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her, not caring who saw them or what they thought. Bucky felt her arms wrap around him as she deepened the kiss, and in that moment, there was nowhere he’d rather be.

He was finally home.

Finally they broke apart, both smiling and a little out of breath. Bucky leaned his forehead against hers.

“So, I’d like to take you out on a date, if that’s okay…”

“A date?”

“Yeah…if you think you can be seen with a washed-up old assassin like me.”

Y/N pretended to think. “That might be arranged, provided you get me home by midnight. Caitlyn will hunt you down, otherwise.”

“Well, then, I better be on my best behavior,” Bucky hummed as she kissed him again.

“You can be a little naughty, I won’t tell,” she whispered.

Bucky swallowed visibly. The light in her eyes was enough to set his soul on fire, a heat he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asked. “I happen to know for a fact that the sunset is particularly pretty from Fulton Park.”

It had been one of their first dates, hotdogs from a food truck and a ride on the carousel before cuddling down by the water to watch the sun set behind the Brooklyn Bridge.

And Y/N knew it.

“Yeah?” she smiled.

“Yeah. I used to know a gal…a tough, Brooklyn gal, mind you. I got a little lost for a while but she…she was the one.” Bucky’s eyes flashed as he looked at her. “I used to take her neckin’ up to the park, and, uh…well, I was wonderin’ if maybe you wanted to go take a walk with me.”

Y/N smiled. “I’d like that.”

Bucky held out his hand and helped her to her feet, her hand firmly grasped in his as they navigated the crowd towards the front of the coffee shop.

Outside, it was a late summer afternoon in Brooklyn. Kids ran up and down the sidewalk, while mothers hollered. Taxis honked and the smell of about a dozen different food carts combined, the scents and sounds of the city providing the perfect backdrop as they walked together down the sidewalk.

Everything had changed, but at the same time, not a thing had changed at all. Bucky gripped her hand a little tighter and she leaned into him as they walked, just another couple swallowed by the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Gah! We’ve come to the end! Soooo many feels in this one, my original draft was only 8K and this one is well over 15K now. Thank you so much for making it this far, I know this was really tough and messy and angsty to read–I hope you liked it!


End file.
